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About Valencia

Heard this mad tale once – Ancient Rome, yeah? Blokes got massages with olive oil, starkers, by slaves trained special. Proper kinky, them Romans! Called it *strigiling* or summat – scraping you down after. Dirty sods! Makes me chuckle, thinking we’re posher now, but are we? Still chasing that tingle, that *je ne sais quoi*. Gets me goat, though – folk acting all prim about it. Hypocrites! Bet they’d love a go, sneaky buggers.

Casa Rosales

Man, first off, there's Calle Real – the main artery of the town. It’s craazy busy, with bars, tapas spots, and even a tiny bookstore where I once met a lovelorn poet. I mean, seriously, the vibe there is almost electric, like, you can feel love and lust sparkin’ every corner. And there’s Calle San Juan too – ain't it a gem? Winding, twisty, where I had one heck of a flirtatious run-in that left me thinkin’ "Now, this is my road to redemption!"